


Little Things

by orphan_account



Series: Get Out of My Castle [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Bodily Functions, Burping, Caretaking, Common Cold, Developing Friendships, Dizziness, Embarrassment, Farting, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Gross, Mila Babicheva is a Delight, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Motion Sickness, Nausea, Sickfic, Sleepy Boys, Stomach Ache, Sympathy Puke, Vomiting, World Travel, Yuri Plisetsky Swears, not in a kinky way sorry, uncomfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One day, The Russian Fairy kidnaps The Hero of Kazakhstan instead. Turnabout is fair play, right?It doesn't go according to plan.
Relationships: Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Get Out of My Castle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591288
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheHallowedAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHallowedAngel/gifts).



> This is a lot longer, fluffier, and definitely grosser than it was supposed to be. It just sort of happened. You can probably see a ship if you squint, but it's just an illusion at this point for these two. Also, I'm posting this before I edit it because I've been writing it for two weeks now and I just need to get it up. I'll comb back over it later, promise!
> 
> (The whole request was for sick Otabek, but I just really, really ran with it. Really.)

The moment Otabek switches his phone back out of airplane mode, it lights up with a flurry of activity. A dozen missed texts, two @s, and three gps pins to his maps. Not long ago, this would have meant that something was terribly wrong. At the moment, all it means is that Yuri Plisetsky's plane landed first, and that Yuri would like his attention. It gives him an unexpected warm feeling in his chest. It's a nice distraction from the clenching feeling in his stomach. He isn't sure if it's due to an oncoming illness or just a very long, very bumpy flight. Hopefully just the latter. After thirteen and a half hours, not counting the touchdowns and layovers he feels like he's been traveling for years, rather than the better part of a day. He sends a quick response to Yuri when he makes it to the baggage carousel. Watching it spin is making him feel a little queasy, so the distraction is nice to have.

The luggage isn't even rolling down off the embankment yet when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Rather than an actual text, it's just another gps pin. An ice rink. Is Yuri dedicated enough to skate after what must have been nearly as long a day of travel as Otabek? Or perhaps it's a team practice. To a boy from Almaty, the Russian coaching staff has always seemed very intense.

Although he would like nothing more than to shower and go to bed, Otabek charts the gps to Yuri's location. They'd planned to get dinner, after all. Maybe they can just do something quick, especially if Yuri is busy. That'll make it easier to wrap things up. A soft sigh of relief escapes him at the thought. If he can just lie down somewhere that isn't in motion for a while, he thinks he'll probably feel better. Unfortunately, that isn't in the cards until after the taxi ride, which is long and expensive, but is definitely the quickest way to get to where Yuri is from the airport, even given the traffic. The driver doesn't try to engage him much after hearing his accent, which is a relief. Speaking Russian to Yuri for an afternoon is fine, but his head feels too hazy to want to try and converse with anyone in English tonight.

When they arrive, it's to a large city park. The gps says it's a 12 minute walk to Yuri's location within the park, and for a moment Otabek is annoyed. It's not a fair reaction, of course. Yuri has no way of knowing he's feeling a little off. On a better day, a quick brisk walk through a tourist attraction to meet up with a friend wouldn't be so bad at all. Today, it leaves a sour taste rising in the back of his throat, but it doesn't stop him from setting off down the pathway. When he finally comes to the ice rink -ribbon, says the signs, - it's confusing at best. It's simply a rough circular ice track, where no one could pull off any sort of practice at all.

There are so many people he can't even spot Yuri. He finds Mila Babicheva first, by the shock of auburn hair sticking out from under her fuzzy white earmuffs. She must feel his eyes, because she looks up and waves a mitten clad hand at him. Otabek raises his own hand in response, only seeing Yuri when Mila elbows someone shorter in the side. Yuri whips around, offended, until he catches sight of Otabek as well. The warm feeling rushes back to him when he sees the subtle way Yuri's eyes light up. Yuri breaks away from Mila and weaves recklessly through everyone in his way to circle the track back around to where Otabek stands. It would've been easier for Otabek to go a bit farther down the path to find Yuri instead, but he's almost grateful for Yuri's impulsivity in the moment. The other skaters whipping by in his peripheral vision is still making him feel dizzy, after all.

"You found it."

 _Thanks for that_ , Otabek thinks a bit ungraciously. In reply, he nods instead. Yuri's eyes narrow slightly, and his head tilts just a bit to the side. He opens his mouth to say something, but just then Mila skates up and claps him on the back a little harder than is probably necessary. "Yura, don't just take off like that! Jeez."

Yuri stumbles forward with the motion and has to catch himself on the barrier railing. He pants, and Otabek almost worries that he's about to be sick for a moment. Then a deep, ringing belch rolls up Yuri's throat instead. It gets mostly swallowed up by the sounds of the crowd and skaters, but standing right in front of him it's loud enough to be a little shocking. A noise like that can come from someone so small? Huh. Even though it's better than what he'd expected to come out of Yuri just then, it's still kind of concerning. "Are you ok?"

Yuri shoots a dirty look at Mila, who is draped over his shoulder giggling now. He shrugs her off and skates a quick, dizzying circle around her to get out of her reach. "Uh. Yeah, mostly. We had a rough flight. It messed my stomach up and ever since then I've been-" he makes an ugly face, shrugs, "-percolating."

"Twelve hours trapped in the seat beside him," Mila adds, pretending to swoon. "Please, take him away already." She follows it up with a hair ruffle so that it's clear she's teasing, but Yuri still bats her hand away and pouts.

"C'mon, let's go. Grandma can find her way back to the hotel without us." Yuri reaches across the barrier, grabs the hand Otabek reflexively extends when he sees Yuri reaching out, and uses it to hoist himself up onto the railing. Someone from the -well, ribbon,- shouts at them, but Yuri doesn't seem concerned by it. He just yanks the skates he's wearing off impatiently, and hands them to Mila over the side of the railing. "Get my stuff when you take these back, ok?"

"What? Hey! Yura!" Mila shouts after them, but they're already walking away. Otabek hardly has time to blink, forget about asking Yuri why they're leaving without his shoes. In fact, the first full thought he can process is genuine surprise that Yuri Plisetsky would deign to wear rental skates from an ice ribbon in a city park. The second thought is that his stomach is flipping again. He'd rather not have to chase Yuri down a dozen winding park pathways before they decide where they're going. There's also the fact that Yuri is going to give himself frostbite. Otabek rubs a hand across his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. In the back of his mind he thinks he'd ordinarily find this situation entertaining, but at the moment he just wants to sit down.

"Yura?" Otabek asks, trying out the common diminutive for the first time. It rolls off his tongue a little clunky, but he thinks he likes the taste of it anyway.

Yuri doesn't seem to mind, or even notice. He looks almost distracted when he glances back at Otabek, as if he's been trying to form a plan on the fly. He glances behind Otabek next, making sure they aren't being pursued by Mila or the ribbon staff, and finally comes to a stop. "We passed a Christmas Market on the way here that the Luft driver said is pretty good. Wanna check that out?"

Otabek swallows a sigh, because it really isn't fair to Yuri. He opens his mouth to reply, but Yuri jerks forward just then and unleashes yet another shockingly forceful belch. Otabek's eyes widen a little. That honestly sounds painful, so he isn't surprised to see Yuri grimace after. "Ow. Ok, it was-" Yuri gets to his toes, looking for path markers or street signs on the distant roadway or landmarks perhaps. Otabek doesn't miss the way he winces, and thinks the cold must be starting to hurt his feet. "Up there! We just go over that shiny weird bridge, cross the street and it's like halfway up the hill."

"I'll lend you some shoes."

The smile Yuri gives him for that response is all the convincing he needs. It looks like he's going to throw up at a Christmas Market today. Otabek crouches into a position he knows that Yuri is not yet old enough to have forgotten means _climb on my back, I'll carry you the rest of the way_. He hesitates long enough for Otabek to worry that it's a mistake, but then he accepts the invitation. Yuri is surprisingly timid as he settles on Otabek's back. Thankfully, Yuri is very light. The extra weight isn't much of a burden. Otabek straightens up, gets a better grip on his suitcase handle and bounces him into place. Two things happen at once, then. First, Otabek's stomach rolls over in complaint with the motion. Also, there's a gush of warmth across his back accompanied by the unmistakable sound of Yuri Plisetsky farting on him.

They both freeze in place for a few heartbeats. Yuri breaks first, groaning loudly and burying his face in the back of Otabek's neck. He can feel Yuri's face flush hot against his skin and realizes he's probably pretty embarrassed about that. Which is sort of funny, which is a problem since Otabek is already trying desperately not to laugh. In contrast to Yuri's belching earlier, the fart had actually been quite dainty. Something about it strikes him as hilarious, a reaction he hasn't had to flatulence since primary school. So that's what percolating means. This is an opportunity to check in with Yuri, at least. "Are you sure you're feeling up to shopping?"

Yuri sneezes, right across the back of Otabek's neck and groans again. Otabek almost groans with him this time, as he tries to brush the saliva away with icy fingers. That's a little gross. Besides, it's uncomfortable too. He should really be wearing gloves in this weather. "Damn it. Sorry. I'm fine as long as you stay upwind," he sighs, sounding slightly frustrated. The annoyance Otabek had been starting to feel again dissipates at that. Yuri clearly isn't well either, but he's not complaining about it. Otabek hopes Yuri can't feel the way he's sweating, now that they're pressed together. Maybe the cold will make it less obvious. Yuri shivers and seems to shift even closer, his face still hot from the embarrassing situation, but his body seems to be cold.

After a short walk, they find a bench for Yuri to sit on while Otabek fishes the shoes out for him to wear. When Otabek squats down to undo his luggage strap his belt presses into his stomach, and only a quick swallowing reflex keeps his breakfast down. That's not good. He shifts his position and breathes through it slowly, then unzips the side of the case. He can feel Yuri staring at him now, watching closely but deciding not to interrupt. Otabek emerges with his riding boots, and Yuri slips them on without comment. They're comically large on him, but it's better than walking around in stocking feet.

They make their way over the bridge, with Yuri darting around people so fast Otabek doesn't even try to keep up. He catches him at the apex, where he finds Yuri red in the face and halfway through coughing up a lung. It sounds wet. Otabek can't help but notice that he's only wearing a pullover. For someone who usually layers up, that's not a good sign either. The fact that he's shivering again suggests he probably regrets the decision. An easy solution occurs to Otabek, who is still sweating, and he slips his jacket over Yuri's shoulders instead.

Yuri's eyes spring open, but he sighs in relief and tugs the jacket even closer around him for a moment before it occurs to him to glance up at Otabek with renewed suspicion. "You're not cold?"

"I'm not," Otabek assures him and quickly takes up stride again. "This way, right?"

"Hey, wait up!" Yuri complains, as if he hadn't all but run ahead in the first place. Otabek obligingly slows his pace, and they save their breath until they make it to the crosswalk. It's so crowded people are spilling out into the streets in every direction, and Otabek grabs Yuri by the wrist without thinking about it. Yuri opens his mouth to object, but seems to change his mind, probably realizing that it makes sense to try to keep one another close in such a crowd. They walk that way up the hill. It's a lot longer of a walk than Yuri described it being, and Otabek finds himself fighting down annoyance again. His stomach churns forcefully, and he's glad that Yuri has taken it upon himself to make the conversation as they walk.

The wind picks up, even chillier than before as they walk. Yuri chatters about what's new in his life, while trying to be as nonchalant as possible about relieving the pressure in his stomach when it gets to be too much. Ordinarily, the whole thing would probably be funny. At the very least, he'd feel more sympathetic if his own stomach wasn't in knots as well. He does think it's sort of pretty the way the stray snowflakes stick to Yuri's eyelashes before he blinks them away, but as soon as Otabek finds himself thinking that Yuri doubles forward with another belch so loud it shakes his slight frame. Maybe pretty isn't the right word. The crowd parts around them on either side until Yuri sheepishly straightens up again and goes back to his storytelling.

Eventually they make it to the market. It's so crowded that it's stifling hot, even in the freezing weather. There's a line wrapped around the block for what the sign proclaims is the market's famous hot cocoa and German Christmas cookies, but it doesn't matter. Neither of them would've been up for putting sweets and dairy on their stomachs anyway. Yuri tugs his wrist free without warning and elbows his way to the front of the crowd at a nearby kiosk. Matryoshka dolls. Otabek smiles to himself just a bit, but he hangs back. He's not sure he wants to get too close to anyone, honestly he's already uncomfortable with the way the crowd jostles him as it moves around him.

An old woman greets Yuri, who accidentally speaks to her in Russian before catching himself and trying to correct to English. She understands him, however, and croons at him in delight for a solid five, six minutes. Perhaps it isn't often that she gets to speak her native tongue to young people, because once she's done fussing over and questioning Yuri, she goes into the back to fetch something in a candy striped plastic bag for him. He stuffs it into the pocket of Otabek's jacket, face a bit flushed again as he rejoins the crowd. "She said there's a wood carver over there, do you wanna check it out?"

 _Over there_ is deeper into the close-packed crowd, which is the absolute last thing that he wants. He can't imagine that Yuri is looking forward to getting jostled by so many strangers either, with his stomach also giving him grief in its own way. The problem is that neither of them seem to be able to admit it. As the eldest, the responsibility should fall on him, which creates another problem. He can't come up with a suggestion for something they could do that would be less uncomfortable for them both. His thoughts are feeling a little hazy altogether, honestly. It's not a good sign. Reluctantly, Otabek nods his assent.

Yuri finds a way through the sea of bodies. He's small, quick and golden. People make allowances for him, often turning to glare at being jostled but softening when they see a young, fair boy in oversized boots and jacket. Otabek can't help but wonder if Yuri is even aware of the effect that his physical appearance has on others. He doesn't seem to use it intentionally against anyone, at least not as far as Otabek has seen, but it's suddenly alarmingly clear that it wouldn't be a difficult thing for him at all if he was ever so inclined. It's probably lucky that Yuri is preoccupied with dragging Otabek by the elbow towards the far side of the market and doesn't seem to pay any mind to the people that he bumps into along the way.

This side is closer to the street performers than the main stage, and the sound of bucket drums pulses in Otabek's head nauseatingly. Yuri winces slightly too, actually reaching up to press against his temple briefly before he catches himself at it. His hand drops back to his side, along with any hope Otabek had of convincing him to come back sometime during the week when things might be less busy as they both catch sight of the carving booth.

It would be kind of magical under better circumstances. Even with the massive crowd around it, he's impressed by the delicate carvings hanging by invisible strings, twirling in the frigid breeze like solitary wind chimes. They're detailed enough to still be breathtaking while viewed from a few paces away. Again, Yuri slinks through to the front like something more malleable than a solid human being should be able to. He gets right up to the window, taking everything in with slightly wide eyes and a more thoughtful expression than Otabek has seen on his face before. In that moment, he feels like this is the right choice even if his stomach is starting to make uncomfortable gurgling noises. 

The feeling is fleeting. Over the next few minutes, his ears begin to ring a little with the rush of blood to his head. Everything gets a little fuzzy at the edges, and it feels like his world narrows down to just the cramping in his stomach, which is suddenly very hard to ignore. He loses track of time, he thinks. It's hard to tell. He doesn't remember Yuri coming back over, and barely registers that Yuri tries to speak to him, let alone what he says.

The first thing that breaks through the fog at all is Yuri tugging insistently on his arm, and falling right on his ass when Otabek doesn't budge. Yuri curses, he thinks, but before he's processed any of that, Yuri is back on his feet, somewhere behind Otabek now. He's got his heels dug into the bricks under their feet and is shoving for all he's worth. Otabek stumbles forward, still confused for a strange moment until his brain finally puts all of the separate pieces together and realizes that's exactly what Yuri wants him to do.

It takes a Herculean effort to focus, but Otabek tries. Yuri seems distressed. "Not here, c'mon," he murmurs, right by Otabek's ear somehow. Oh, becuase Otabek is bent double. That's a problem if they're walking somewhere. Otabek hiccups roughly, and it starts to sink in that he's going to be sick. It's not happening in the distant future anymore, it's going to be sometime imminent now. "MOVE!" Yuri shouts at the crowd of people blocking their exit, but it does absolutely nothing until he adds some extra motivation. "I'M GONNA PUKE!"

The fact that the physical effort of dragging Otabek through the crowd unsettles Yuri's stomach enough to bring another massive belch out of him lends some credence to the lie, and people all but scatter the few inches they can move in any direction without running into others. It helps to clear a path through the thickest part of the crowd. Yuri shouts it several more times before they finally break through to where the tin drums and the puppet shows are. The view of a crowded intersection has never been such a massive relief to either of them before.

Yuri gets hold of Otabek's phone somehow. Was it in his jacket? He can't really remember. Either way, whatever he's looking for on it doesn't seem to be there. He groans something about teaching Otabek something, then glances up. Bitter saliva fills Otabek's mouth, and he does his best to swallow it down. Yuri's clear enough in focus now that Otabek can see his expression change from frustration to concern. "Ok, fine. I'll set it up I guess. Where's your credit card?"

He's not following what's happening exactly, but he fumbles for his credit card anyway. It doesn't even occur to him not to, which is unusual. Later, he'll assume it was a rational reaction. Yuri probably doesn't have a credit card, being under 18. It makes perfect sense that Otabek would be the one to pay for whatever it is that they need, since he doesn't have that sort of restriction. The truth is a bit weightier to consider. He simply trusts Yuri already. Is that a normal thing among newfound friends? He's hardly an expert.

Yuri types the numbers into the phone with his quick, graceful fingers, but he has to keep shaking them out and blowing on the tips to get the screen to register his touch. They're still red and not yet pale with hints of frostbite, but he's obviously too cold. Otabek frowns, but can't do much more than make a mental note that they should get indoors soon before his stomach gives an alarming lurch. He can't even warn Yuri, because as soon as he opens his mouth a fountain of vomit pours out and splatters the street in front of him. Someone honks and swears. Did he just upend his stomach on a passing car?

Beside him, Yuri curses as well as he springs to life. He drops the phone and credit card in order to grab Otabek around his mid-chest and tug him backwards, away from the street. Around them people react with alarm and disgust, but it's hard to care about them at the moment.

Otabek topples helplessly over on top of Yuri, who squeaks in pain at absorbing the impact of both their bodies, but doesn't complain. Rather, he wriggles out from under Otabek with some difficulty and a bit more vehement cursing, then comes around to the front. He cups Otabek's chin with icy fingers, lifting it up to get a good look at him. Otabek can't help the hiss of discomfort at that, but he stares resolutely back so that Yuri can see whatever it is that he needs to see. He must see it, because he sinks down into a low squat with a sigh of relief. "Holy shit."

"Sorry," Otabek finally manages. He doesn't offer anything more. His stomach is still turning somersaults, and he's got a feeling this isn't over just yet. Yuri punches his shoulder, hard. He grunts, but accepts that he probably deserves it. He wrestles up enough control of his leaden limbs to turn over onto his hands and knees. He can actually feel Yuri go tense beside him, but in a minute he accepts the situation for what it is and lays his ice cold hand on Otabek's back.

"Better just do it. They're getting security, you know?" He mumbles warily. It's not a helpful or relaxing thought, but it does convey a sense of urgency that seems to move things along. Otabek barely has to retch to bring up another wave of half-digested food out onto the square. He chokes and gags. Yuri thumps him on the back a few times, which doesn't feel great but does seem to help him get his breath again. Relief sets in even as he becomes aware that his hands and knees are getting wet from the sick puddle.

From beside him Yuri curses thickly, then scrambles up and away with a wet belch. He's moving faster than Otabek can process in his state, but he does hear people gasping around them and something splashing into a metal container. Probably a public trash can, but it's hard to get his body to follow commands. By the time he looks up, all he sees is Yuri spitting and arguing with someone. He wipes the cuff of Otabek's jacket sleeve across his mouth (great) and stomps back over. His voice is a little hoarse, and he's still pale, but he doesn't seem much worse for the wear. "Ugh, gross. That happens sometimes. It sucks. C'mon, we have to leave. That guy was gonna call the cops."

"Why?" Otabek manages to ask as Yuri tries and fails to tug him up to his feet.

"They think you're drunk," Yuri pants, trying a different approach and wedging his shoulder under Otabek's chest. Otabek manages to lean on him, but Yuri can't bear his weight. He shakes like a newborn calf trying to stand for the first time and almost falls over, having to catch himself on his palms. The way he grunts suggests that it hurts, but even then he doesn't complain. Somewhere under all of the fog Otabek feels guilty. He knows that he's quite literally a burden at the moment.

"Why?" He repeats, genuinely not able to grasp the situation.

Yuri finally groans in frustration. "You were staggering, and you almost fell off the curb into traffic when you yakked. Ok, I'm gonna give you a hand up but you gotta push off. Use your legs. I think I can catch you. I hope. But you're too big for me to lift. You got that? When I pull, you push off."

He tries, he really does. His legs feel wobbly and weighted, though, so when Yuri grabs his arms and pulls, he only gets halfway up before he falls back down on his seat again. It ends with Yuri being flipped over headfirst behind Otabek somewhere. He flinches at the thud Yuri makes when he hits the ground and the fear that Yuri might actually be hurt gives him enough adrenaline to push up to his heels and shakily spin around to check. The murmurs of the crowd go silent for a few terrible heartbeats. Yuri lays far too still for the longest moment, then takes in a shuddering, wheezing breath. Otabek almost falls over again with relief, even though Yuri uses that breath to say something ugly enough to make the brave woman who had started to kneel to check on him cross herself quickly.

The relief fades a bit when Yuri sits up and focuses a sharp glare at Otabek. "Get. Up. Now." He growls, patience apparently wearing thin. The shaking hand he lifts to his head is somehow scarier than the venomous tone of voice. Yuri could have gotten hurt just then. Otabek blinks, but before he can even try to find something sturdier than Yuri to help pull himself up by, two men grab him under his arms and lift him easily to his feet. One stands there, supporting him, while the other circles around and pulls Yuri up a bit more roughly by the scruff.

"Bad kitty!" The voice of the man holding Otabek up rumbles up from his chest. The other man gives Yuri's ear a flick. Yuri folds his arms in a defensive posture and sulks.

"Yuri?" Otabek calls out, still feeling hazy and useless. These guys must know Yuri, right?

Yuri wriggles out of the man's grasp and runs over. He slides his own shoulder under Otabek's side, opposite of whoever is holding him up. He feels soft and warm. The hairs that have come loose from his ponytail tickle Otabek's collarbone. "Get lost. I have this!" Yuri complains, petulantly. The others, including the woman who'd knelt to check on Yuri earlier, burst into laughter. Otabek slumps closer to Yuri, who grunts and strains under his weight until the other man pulls Otabek upright again.

"Kiddo, he just threw you while half conscious. Sit down. The taxi will be here in a minute." Skaters. Otabek thinks that these are fellow competitors. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog away, but it only makes his ears ring. The guy holding him up gives a low whistle. "He's really hot. No wonder he's delirious."

He hopes he's not delirious, but he's having trouble following the conversation again. "There's a taxi?" He asks instead, grasping hopefully onto the idea that they're going to get off this cursed street corner sometime in the near future.

There is, and it arrives quickly just as promised. The two vaguely familiar men help Otabek in, and then Yuri wedges himself between them by sheer force of will. His stomach must be bothering him again, because there's a noise that's definitely not just the leather jacket squeaking on the vinyl seats when he squeezes in. The others groan and the driver fixes them all with a look in the mirror until Yuri rolls his eyes and grumbles "excuse me" in the same tone of voice that other people use to say 'fuck you.' Still, everything goes smoothly once they're all crammed in and on the way.

They make it to the hotel. Otabek isn't even checked in yet, but the woman (Sara, isn't it?) hands his luggage off to the front desk, secures a key card for him by some sort of magic, and it's only a few moments until they're on their way. They pile into the elevator, where Yuri lets loose again almost as soon as the doors close. If it's not intentional, the timing really is awful. Otabek doesn't mind, however.

While the others complain and threaten to make Yuri take the stairs, Otabek reaches forward and curls his fingers loosely into his jacket, which Yuri is still wearing. "Shut up, I can't help it!" Yuri groans, sounding embarrassed and uncomfortable. He sniffs angrily and wipes his runny nose on the sleeve of the jacket. At this point Otabek doesn't even care anymore. He understands. He's embarrassed, uncomfortable, and kind of gross at the moment too.

When Yuri notices Otabek holding the coat he quiets again, face flushed in a way that Otabek suspects is pleased. He hopes it's nice to have someone in your corner, even in such a silent, weak way. Yuri himself is quite a bit louder, and is the most reassuring thing in Otabek's whole ring today, give or take the cold fingers and snot.

The memory of Yuri hopping a fence at the rink and carelessly running away with him, sans shoes, is enough to give the guy an awful lot of leeway. And all of that even before he'd spent twenty minutes excruciatingly trying to pry Otabek's butt off the pavements and help him to safety. There's not much that Yuri could do to swing the scales back around after that. He simply owes the guy. Somehow, this brings the warm feeling back to his chest.

The elevator finally chimes and they guide him out, while Yuri runs ahead to locate the door and get it opened. He even turns down the bed for them to drop Otabek into, and starts undoing his shoelaces for him while the others chuckle in the background. Otabek can hear the tone to it, but chooses to ignore it. Sara bends down and whispers in his ear. "If you hurt that bambino, you will answer to me." She pushes his sweaty hair back from his face afterwards, as if she hasn't just threatened him.

Her brother tugs her away then, not comfortable with the contact. Yuri finishes getting Otabek's shoes off and slides into Sara's place, squatting beside the bed and looking him over as if assessing the damages of the day. "He's fine now. You can leave."

Otabek manages a thumbs up, trying to support Yuri, but it's met with more laughter. Nekola hops onto the bed and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "We're not leaving you alone with a sick, defenseless man, little Plisetsky. Run along now."

The tone is teasing, but Otabek understands why Yuri tenses up. It's insulting. The boy won the GPF scarcely a week ago and this is how they talk to him? That's not right. He's young, sure, but he's earned his place here the same as they have. Otabek tries to sit up and tell them all that Yuri is right, they're not needed. It doesn't work out as well as he hopes, though. The motion sets his head spinning again and it takes everything in him to swallow instead of vomit all over Yuri, who wisely watches him with apprehension. "Gonna hurl again?"

He manages a stiff nod, which sets off a flurry of activity around them. He's on his knees in front of the toilet before he can register much else. The muffled voices of those two men and the woman hover above him, but he can't make out any of it. Yuri is knelt behind him, with his hands splayed out across Otabek's back and shoulders as if he has no idea what to do but wants to do something. It's a relief to note that while his fingers are still cold, they don't feel like actual icicles anymore. Otabek gags, and he feels Yuri bury his face into the back of his shirt, with a sharp hiccup and a low belch. He groans, sounding frustrated again. "I can't watch but I'm not going anywhere, ok?"

Otabek would answer that it's nice of him to stay anyway if his insides weren't squeezing like an invisible viper is wrapped around them. Instead, he leans forward and lets the hot, acidic mess pour out of his mouth into the toilet in several long spurts. Yuri gives a queasy groan as he reaches up to pat Otabek's back again, which is surprisingly relatable and comforting. He feels pretty woozy himself, after all. The adults in the room snicker at Yuri's expense rather than his, but he finds himself resenting it just the same. Something about it gives him strength he didn't even know he had. Otabek staggers to his feet and reaches back to catch Yuri, who almost falls over when the guy he's been leaning against is suddenly not there. Yuri wordlessly gets to his feet along with Otabek, staring blankly at where his wrist is being held.

Grabbing a towel from the rack, Otabek wipes his face and tosses it aside. He lets Yuri's arm drop and turns to address the others. "Thank you. I'll pay you back for the taxi." He says, holding out a hand to Crispino. There's a beat where he hopes he won't have to actually tell them to 'get lost' in Yuri's earlier words, but luckily it isn't necessary.

Nekola grabs his hand and shakes it first, clapping his other hand down on Otabek's shoulder. "You had us worried for a minute, Altin."

Both Crispinos throw some sort of good luck at him on the way out, and they try valiantly to drag Yuri along with them. Yuri digs his heels into the carpet stubbornly. When that doesn't prove to be effective he grabs the door frame and resorts to mule kicking until everyone gives him a wider berth. "I _said_ I'm not going anywhere!" He snaps, and Otabek backs him up with a nod when the others glance over at him.

Someone gives Yuri a quick swat across the backside on the way out and calls him a naughty kitty again. Why do they keep saying that? Oh, well, at least they finally leave. Otabek collapses face first back onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. Yuri, grumbling and rubbing his understandably sore ass cheek given the day they've just had, follows Otabek over. He feels the bed dip on the other side, and then feels Yuri tugging at his shoulder again. He doesn't mean to groan, it just slips out. It's not that he's annoyed with Yuri exactly, as much as he'd really just like to be left alone at least until the room stops spinning around him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You gotta roll over, though. Just on your side. Then you can sleep. Promise."

Patience isn't something he's ever associated with Yuri before today, but the tone really is surprisingly patient given the source. Otabek digs deep into his inner reserves, and manages to help just enough that Yuri can roll him over onto his side. Yuri doesn't explain anything, but he starts packing pillows in around Otabek. He even tucks one under his head, and another into his arms like an abnormally large plush toy. A drop of sweat drips off of Yuri's face and lands on him, which would be gross any day they hadn't already spilled so much bodily fluid in front of and on one another. Today, he just lets Yuri wipe it away again without comment, and they carry on stacking up pillows and praying for the walls to hold still, respectively. The amount of pillows on the hotel bed is nearly comical. Does anyone really need 9 pillows to get to sleep?

Yuri's cough hasn't cleared up yet, and he belches softly while he kicks off the borrowed boots. The bed dips again as Yuri somersaults off the end of it, which would be a neat trick if he did grab his hip and hiss in pain afterward. The beginnings of a massive bruise peeks out along the bone where his jeans hang loose. Otabek makes a mental note to do something nice for Yuri as soon as he can lift himself out of bed again. For his part, Yuri still hasn't complained. He just shimmies out of the jacket, thanks the porter who brings up the luggage, and grabs some bottled water out of the mini fridge. The water Yuri cracks open and sets on the bed table beside Otabek. "Think you can sit up?"

He really doesn't, but he tries. With Yuri's help he actually gets onto his elbow, which is close enough to sitting up not to choke. Yuri helps him drink, which is a nice gesture until Yuri sneezes again and the bottle in his hand jerks, splashing water on Otabek's face. Still, he can't honestly be angry about it.

He's distracted from it anyway when Yuri digs deep into his own pocket and comes out with a little bell on a ribbon. Otabek silently watches as the bell is secured to his wrist, with a double knot instead of a simple bow.He wants to ask about that, because it's definitely a little weird, but it just doesn't feel important enough to object to. Maybe it's a superstition he's never heard of. It's fine. 

He lets Yuri help him back down to his side and mop his face off with the hem of the t-shirt he's wearing. It's probably not very sanitary, but he's sure Yuri is probably fuzzy headed and exhausted by now as well, so he lets it be. 

This is quickly confirmed by Yuri yawning as he pulls the blankets up around Otabek. He doesn't do a great job of tucking Otabek in, if that's what he's aiming for, but the thought counts. He also thinks to pull the little trash can over from the vanity area, which is probably a good idea considering everything is still sort of tilting on its axis in Otabek's world. After that Yuri climbs back onto the bed and squirms under the blankets on the other side of the pillow mountain. Even though they're not touching through the six pillows stacked up around them, Otabek can feel the extra warmth Yuri is throwing off, and the sheets lose their chill quickly. It's nice.

Even when Yuri starts to snore a little, that warm, appreciative feeling in Otabek's chest remains. Having a friend to help you through a bad day is nice, he decides. Technically, most of the complications were to do with Yuri in the first place, but it would be unfair to say that any of it was his fault. He should be a little more careful, though. They can talk about all of that tomorrow. For now, they're both safe and warm. He lets his eyes slip closed and finally, blissfully falls into a deep, much-needed sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The bell is a throwaway reference to [Lost in Translation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839092). That fic is otherwise unrelated to this one, so you don't need to read both. It's not really explained in that one either.


End file.
